


Where The Wolves Go

by Kayfox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF!Stiles, F/M, M/M, Mercenary!Derek, everyone is an adult here thank you very much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayfox/pseuds/Kayfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is a mercenary working in Wolf Whistle, a mercenary guild situated in Laturna city. Living there with his sister Laura, the memories of the horrendous fire that destroyed their family is left distant in memory. But when news arrives, informing Derek and Laura of their remaining kin's death, Derek is forced to return to Beacon Hills, their quiet hometown, in order to settle Peter's belongings, and the house deeds. Derek intends it to be quick and simple.</p><p>But what awaits Derek upon returning is something more fascinating: a mystery at hand that grips Derek and inexorably pulls him in, to a forest that is magically barricaded from the rest of the world. And as Derek continues to pursue this mystery, he becomes caught up in events he understands little of, the only person who seems to know what is going on is the Mayor's son, Stiles, and he himself is an enigma.</p><p>Derek becomes convinced Stiles is at the center of the events surrounding Beacon Hills. Calling upon all of his skills, Derek begins to discover what lies at the center of the forbidden forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a work in progress. I'd like to say this because I'm notoriously, notoriously slow at writing fanfiction because of my own real-time writer commitments. So if you do not want to read this halfway through, and then end up waiting around for months at a time for an update of some sort, please feel free to just jump past this.
> 
> On that note, this story is originally a Harvest Moon!AU, and then it became a Rune Factory!AU, but then it became for me, a personal project involving exploring the Sterek relationship. I'm not sure how many chapters this will have, but I do know how this entire story will progress, and how it ends.
> 
> If any of you are interested in finding me, please go to my Tumblr, zodiacsgraveyard.tumblr.com. :)

It is on the third day of the last week of Spring that Derek returns to the family farm after burying Peter in the graveyard.

Deaton had not been in when Derek had visited the apothecary, but the procedure had gone fast enough. A boy with sharp eyes -- Isaac -- had helped him confirm his uncle's body, and Derek had burned it to ashes with the pile of fire lahazard. After that short excursion to the building a ways out of the town, Derek went to his old family house to look upon it.

Peter's work had changed the burnt-out husk that Derek remembered as his family home. While its blackened exterior remains as a testament to the pain Derek had to feel and disuse hangs heavy in the air, the house is liveable. Derek can see the replaced wood jarring with the new. Optimistically, even, scattered vines wind up the walls of the house, green snakes on black char.Laura had given him the keys to the farm - a brass key that slots into the rusty lock of the house. Derek uses it to get into the house.

The interior of the house is better maintained. There is indication of cleaning and airing - the bed in the corner seems new. Derek places his bags down onto the floor, looking around as he does so. A small kitchen area with a storage bin is on the far end of the room, and a cooling box, powered by some ice lahazard, sits next to a series of pots and pan. A store of fire lahazard sits next to the boiler nearby. Derek supposes that they're new - if a bit battered.

The door at the back, to the rest of the house, and the staircase to the second floor, is boarded up with haphazard planks of wood and violently bent nails. Derek ignores that.

There is a cough, and Derek turns around. Standing in the doorway of the house, is a man in respectable and neat clothes.

"You must be Derek Hale." The man says. "I'm Mayor Stilinski, welcome back to Beacon Hills."

\-----

Beacon Hills hasn't changed from the town it was when Derek was still a kid. Most of the people he knows are still there - Derek catches quite a few nostalgic names, and a few that bring back memories.

Derek though, as expected, sits through the gentle condolences pressed on him. Mayor Stilinski, while kind, is exacting in his kind regret, as if he was responsible for Peter's death.

"I'll be staying here for a year." Derek eventually tells the Mayor. "I'm here to take care of my uncle's things, but I need to prepare the house for sale. It'll take a while to clean up."

"Alright," the mayor replies. "We were expecting something like that." His voice is placating. "Feel free to do what you need."

"Thank you for coming up." Derek takes control of the conversation. "Nothing's changed in the town right?" He asks. "Nothing significant?"

Mayor Stilinski nods. "Nothing much. McCall still runs the grocer, Deaton still runs the apothecary, the general housebodies are all still here. But there are some new faces - a new family. Chris came to town with his daughter a year ago, they're set up in the old blacksmithy now."

Now that's news. "A smithy?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow. "We didn't have one then."

"Yeah, but thing's changed - even if Chris and his daughter can't make any weapons or anything, they're still welcome to building."

Derek nods. "The monsters?"

"Still growing." The Mayor says, darkness edging into his voice. "The barrier we set up is still working. Keep away from it."

"I'll take note."

"Good." Mayor Stilinski says. He shifts his feet, turning to the door, ready to leave. "Oh, and if you need any help, we're here. Just ask, my son comes by every day to pick up things you want to sell - you can ask him to take a message."

"Thank you." Derek says. "It was nice of you to come up and tell me all this."

"It's fine. Anything for an old town friend." Offering his hand, the Mayor shakes Derek's hand. "Welcome back, I think the town has missed you."

"I hope not," Derek says mildly. "I'm not planning on staying long."

\-----

The very next day, at the crack of dawn, Derek is ready to start work.

Last night, Derek took a thorough look at everything in the house, from floor space to the items in the house and weak spots in the flooring. Having decided that on his list of priorities, the house had nothing important, he would deal with the fields outside the nvery next morning.

Derek leans slightly on the butt of his axe which he has rested on a large boulder, and surveys the fields around him. The fields, he notes, are completely overgrown. Likely speaking, no one has taken care of them since Peter died, and the effects of such negligence is clear. The soil is pitted with wood, bracken, stone - generally overrun, completely inhospitable to proper planting.

Derek does not fear the work ahead of him. Having spent the first year of his life in Latura schooled in hard knocks, Derek has learnt what makes a body strong is repeatedly getting back up. And though after six years Derek has the body of a fighter - Derek can already predict that adapting to the pastoral life will be tiring.

One bright note, Derek thinks to himself, letting a small seed of warmth lodge in his chest and bloom, is that farming means that he'll be visiting McCall's grocer soon. And Derek has missed Melissa far more so than all of the people that he and Laura had left behind.

He picks up his axe, walks to a tangle of knotted wood, and swings.

\--

Derek's been at work for only ten minutes when he hears the cantering of hooves on dry, packed dirt.

Turning away from the fields, Derek spots a young man approaching him on a horse. This, he realises belatedly, must be the Mayor's son, Stiles Stilinski.

Derek has known many people in his life, many more than he had ever expected himself to need. He has known people who lived life without thinking, because thinking brought misery, and he has known people who lived life engaging the worst in themselves. But most interesting about Stiles, Derek thinks, is that Stiles looks like Derek, in the expression of his face.

There is a brief silence as Derek and Stiles size each other up through the gentle but insistent light of the Spring sun. Derek looks up to Stiles, whose height is masked by the horse he rides on, his face's softness given a cast of darkness by his eyes and by the sun, and he waits.

Stiles is the first to break the silence. "Hello." He says, and his voice is light, matching the features of his face. He bobs his close-shaven head. "I'm Stiles."

"Derek Hale," Derek says as Stiles dismounts. "Your dad told me about you." Derek takes a moment to observe Stiles, and realises to his surprise that Stiles is almost his height. "I should thank you for the food." Derek says. "You were the one who left some in the icebox last night, weren't you?" It had saved him a night of work to forage something.

"Oh, that!" Stiles says. He relaxes, as if he'd been waiting, unsure if Derek would take the lead. "It's fine, Derek, if I can call you that. Just take it. We want you to be welcome."

"I'll make it up to you," Derek promises. "I know you collect stuff for sale around here, so I'll get you stuff when I finally get around to..." he casts a hand to the field, "whatever it is I'll be doing."

"No hurry," Stiles says. He laughs once (a short, sharp bark), and cocks his head to one side. "If you're worrying about weight or anything, I assure you, you won't have to worry about that."

Derek mimics Stiles' head tilt. "It won't?" Derek asks. "You only have one horse."

Stiles grins. "I do magic." He waggles his fingers, and manages to look charming instead of silly. "Not a lot - just a little to help me make my life easier. Your stuff will sit in a pocket till I get to the market next town."

Derek is surprised. Back in Laturna, magic was not only rare, but coveted - almost no one could use magic. "Magic must work differently here," he says, not realising that he's spoken his thoughts, and Stiles laughs again.

"Is that so?" Stiles' voice is teasing. "In that case, I'll let this slide, just this time."

And as if the silence that comes after laughter heralds the end of a conversation, Stiles turns back. After mounting his horse, he canters off without a word, leaving silence behind in his wake.

Derek watches Stiles for a second too long, then forcibly tears his gaze away.

\------

The conversation that ends abruptly that day is not picked up the day after, nor the day after that. Stiles exchanges nods and "heys" with Derek when he comes in the morning, but never says anything further than that, and Derek accepts the state of affairs.

Derek likes silence, to be honest. Back in Laturna, Derek had always dealt with noise because it was necessary - no cities could take breath without racous cries, and Derek liked to think that the noise made avoiding his nightmares easier. But now that he's back in Beacon Hills, the silence is simply a new type of environment.

Derek fills his free moments with work. At seven in the morning, he is up and out of the house, axe and hammer in hand. Every day, Derek clears a portion of land. Sure, the work is boring. Tedium is neither worsened or allieviated by the little variation he has - but Derek's used to it. Mercenary training back in the city was equally as boring, save that he had people to work with. But it helps.

The piles of stone and wood by the house grow. Luckily, there isn't a lot of rain in Spring. And as the amount of stone and wood near the porch grows to near obscene amounts, Derek feels glad that he doesn't have to put them in the house, especially in the darker parts he explored once and then hastily shut, vowing never to open again.

And when Stiles collects the portion of materials that Derek leaves for him in the bin, his hands flash with light. The light has no sound, hence preserving their impasse.

And after a week, Derek heads into town.

\--

With a good third of the fields cleared of overgrowth, it's about time that he got some seeds. When Derek walks the path into town, he pinches in his hand a small list that he made painstakingly the night before with a thin stick of charcoal he'd brought here with his wide hands. On it are a list of items, and using it he makes his way to the forge where the new family - Chris, had set up shop in.

Following the smoke (because fire's used to forge metal, a material that resists lahazard), Derek finds himself a bit on the outskirts of town. Facing a stone-and-brown-brick home, spacious and wide with "Argent Forge" written on a sign that's hung from the eaves, Derek stands in front of the home, squashing down his anxiety before walking in.

The first thing that impresses on Derek is a hot blast of air, and a brief moment of homesickness invades him. A longing for his little apartment room next to Laura's, where they'd curl up on the hottest summer nights to discuss their loves. But a cough draws Derek out of his reverie, and when Derek opens his eyes, he sees the blacksmith in the room at the end of the hallway he is standing in.

Chris Argent is a man with pepper hair and a stern mouth, lined with laughter. "You must be Derek Hale," he says, and one can feel his kind but unwavering sterness in his tone. Spoken with a certain dryness, Derek suddenly remembers Boyd, a fellow mercenary back in Laturna, and another wave of nostalgia hits him.

(A slight craving for physical comfort too, but Derek stoically avoids that thought. Boyd had parted with him under amicable relations. What they had was what they had, nothing more.)

"Mr. Argent." Derek says. "I hear you run a forge."

The man laughs. "Call me Chris." He walks out from behind the great wooden table he had been working at. "And yes, only blacksmithy around here, unless you're willing to head to Mineral." They shake hands. "What can I do for you?"

Derek holds up his note. "I was back up at the old ranch, staying for a year. I need new tools." He scans his list, grateful for an excuse not to make eye contact. "My hoe and watering can are rusted, and I'm going to seed my fields sometime next week or so."

Chris nods. "A hoe and watering can? I can get you some." Chris says. "But I don't know if you can afford it - ore costs a pretty penny."

"Ore?"

"Metalwork's expensive around these parts," Chris explains. "I take it you're from a big city - Siegsamund?" Derek shakes his head. "Laturna then. Well, Laturna imports most of its ore from the northern mines. Down south here, all our ore is behind a barrier." Chris's voice tells Derek that he's spun this spiel a couple of times. "So when I say that you need it'll cost you, I mean it's going to cost you."

Derek frowns. "Can't anyone get into the mines, past the barrier?"

Chris shrugs, his powerful shoulders moving up then down. "Standard magic aside - the barrier's impenetrable. The mystic down in the southern woods sealed it with a strong spell diagram, and only her magic permit can get you in. But our good mayor is against letting anyone in, mostly because of his son. No one has gone in in years."

"But getting someone to purchase the ore is expensive too," Derek says, and Chris nods. Derek frowns. "I guess I'll talk to Mayor Stilinski then," he says, and sighs, waving his right hand in an apology. "I'm sorry. I'm making things complicated."

Chris looks at Derek again, and this time his expression is easier to read. Sympathy flickers in his eyes. "New back here, aren't you."

"Yes, and missing home," Derek sighs. "I'll come by again," he says. "But then again, do you sell weapons?"

A spark lights up in Chris' eyes. "I used to, and I still have some with me. You're a mercenary, Derek?"

"I work as one," Derek confirms.  "Wolf Whistle Guild."

Chris nods at him in approval. "Queen's Guard, back in the day." He rolls up his left shirtsleeve, revealing a complex-looking tattoo on Chris' shoulder - a series of interlocking lines that form an arrow-like triangle. "It's good to see another fighter in town."

Derek recognises the big city guild -- Queen's Guard was _the_ Council guild, the dream job of any mercenary. "You must have an incredible history," Derek says, eyes wide in surprise. "You must tell me some of them another time."

"Another time then," Chris affirms.

After giving a final goodbye, he leaves the house.


	2. Chapter 2

_"I wish you didn't have to leave," Melissa says, hugging Derek._

_Derek sighs. His spindly thin arms, adequate for the youngest kid in a family of seven, much to thin for his future, tangles in her hair. "I'm going to miss you so much," he says. "But I have to go, Laura and I --"_

_"I know." There is a pause, and they disengage. "Make sure you come back," Melissa says._

_"I'll try," he says, and leaves._

\-----

Spring makes Beacon Hills look like a gentle place. Away from his home and his fields, Derek can pretend that he is simply a stranger passing by. So much has changed, but so little as well.

While Derek doesn't bump into anybody on the way to Melissa's place, Derek's certain that the houses he passes by are filled with knowledge, the kind that is taken and spun without permission. Though he doesn't look at them to see if anyone is watching, Derek moves quickly, unwilling to linger any more than he has to.

Derek makes his way to the small store in the center of town without any trouble. When the small town square reveals itself, and Derek sees the same small building, slightly more run down than the forge, he sucks in a breath.

He's here. Melissa's store.

When Derek enters, tinkling the bell with the door, it is only a moment before Melissa recognises him. Working with a ledger at her counter, she cries out in joy when she recognises him. "Derek!" she shouts, and her smile, so rare but so genuine, makes Derek smile.

"I'm back," Derek says. Melissa makes her way over to him, throwing herself into his arms with a large laugh that makes Derek stumble, just a bit. "Oh stars, Melissa, I've missed you," he says, and squeezes Melissa affectionately.

"Time's been harsh on you, but gosh, look at you!" She squeezes his arms. "You've grown up. How is the city?" she asks.

"Big. Lonely. Good." The words are contradictory but all true. "I love it."

Melissa nods, and her voice is soft, years of separation causing her voice to sound shy when she speaks. "So long as you are happy," she says.

"Let's us have some tea," Derek suggests, and let's Melissa mother him. She brings him to the back of her store with a quick word that no one ever comes in so early in the morning and brews a pot of tea on fire lahazard while keeping her hand on Derek's hand.

"So how is Laura?" Melissa asks, while liberally adding dried lavender blooms to the boiling water.

"She's good," Derek says, taking a seat at a small battered chair in the back of the shop. Stacks of boxes spiral up around them in neatly organised towers, and Derek spies Melissa's looping handwriting on a number of boxes that she has to identify what's inside. "We run a guild together now in the city."

"A mercenary! That's why you have the muscles then," Melissa says affectionately. Her movements are artful and fast, hands pinching shut her satchet of loose dried petals and storing them into a kitchenette drawer. "And the guild?"

"It's good. Comfortable." Derek works with a close knit team of mercenaries, heading one half of the guild while Laura manages the other. "And you?"

"I'm good, more than good. Scott's been doing well. He works at the inn now, you know, took over once Fin couldn't handle the workload anymore. He's been seeing Allison, Chris' girl, for about two summers now." Melissa smiles, contentment radiating from her features. "Work's slow, but I'm comfortable with what we have."

"That's good to hear." Derek remembers Scott McCall faintly - Scott never really visited the Hale farm when Derek was younger. "He's good friends with Stiles, right?"

"Oh those two," Melissa says, weary but wry. "Stiles comes to visit every once in a while, yes. They're close, but Stiles works a lot out of town now, we don't see him that often."

"Mayor's son, huh."

"Yes. He's busy with Mineral Town's market, does a lot of our heavy lifting here. Shaping up to be the Emissary his mother was." Melissa checks the tea, and finding it brewed, pours him a cup. "And you, Derek, I've been missing you, even with your letters."

Derek smiles gently. "I've missed you too, but you know me. Can't stay around here much." Melissa nods sympathetically. "But I'm here for a while, aren't I?"

"You are," Melissa says, her two hands grasping Derek's in a light but ever perfect embrace. And Derek feels like a weight's been lifted off his heart.

Derek still finds speaking with strangers hard. Back in Laturna, Laura did most of the talking while Derek busied himself with the core group of people he'd chosen to array his life with, and back here, the same degree of anxiety remains. Derek's conversation with the Mayor bordered on the lines of the politely frigid, and his conversation with Chris Argent just barely, _barely_ warmer than friendly banter.

But with Melissa, perhaps because she's Melissa, Derek finds himself free to speak.

He shares about the past few years, about Laura and his adventures, of the guild they've set up. He tells her about his friends, his new job, even about Boyd. He talks and continues talking because Melissa is a friend, and Derek's missed having her in this place. And Melissa is a great listener. But Derek doesn't say everything. He keeps his silence, skipping a story of when Laura got robbed, and omits stories about his trial to become a mercenary, of the near deadly tasks he had to perform for the Council. He doesn't tell her about what Boyd really is to Derek because Derek loves Boyd fiercely and wishes to keep him strictly to himself.

He shares enough, because its an acceptable joy to be friendly with an old friend, but know better than to tell too much.

\--

"I'm sorry about Peter." Melissa says after three cups of tea.

An hour's passed since Derek's entered the shop, and they've reached a lull in their conversation. Derek, to his surprise, doesn't feel any pain when he hears Peter's name mentioned, and he says "it's alright, Melissa," to assure her.

"Still, it's good to see you are doing well." Melissa gives Derek an appraising look, gentle to his eyes. "It's good to see you home."

Derek smiles. "It is nice to see you too."

Melissa grins. "So, what do you need?" Derek's eyebrows raise, and Melissa laughs. "Derek, dear, I know you. Where's your list?" Melissa plucks it out of his sheepish fingers and looks through. "Let me get you what I can right now."

Getting up, Melissa bustles around the shop, pulling out boxes and crates to sift through for seeds and the other items that Derek has on his list. Derek follows after her, watching her operate in her element, just a bit bashful. "I did want to see you, you know."

"I know," Melissa says. She pops back up from her crouching position, a box filled with seeds rattling around at a shake, and flashes a mischievous grin at him, "but you know I like playing with you." Derek huffs. "I love you dearly, Derek. You're way too fun."

Derek decides to change the conversation. "I'm going to be here for a year, Melissa."

"And?"

"I was thinking that I needed some tools to till the land, but the smithy doesn't have any ore."

"Ah," Melissa's tone is understanding. "You're out of luck though, Chris told you he can't get any."

"Right."

Melissa heads back to her table in the back of the shop, producing a piece of oilpaper to wrap the seeds, food, and oil that Derek's asked for. "Well it's not going to happen if Stiles has anything to say about it. Bless his stars, but he's never been the same."

"Never been the same?"

"The poor boy's mother died." Melissa twists together the paper with a piece of twine, and turns back to face Derek. "I forgot you didn't know -- Nierna passed a few months after you and Laura left. She wasted away faster than you could believe."

"I didn't know," Derek says, reeling. Bad news has always been a surprise to him; even when Laura received the missive that Peter's light had ascended Derek'd felt the loss like a blow. Suddenly to him, Stiles' taciturn manner is understandable. "Melissa --" He pauses, cut off by a bang, as a man and woman tumble into the house.

They are a few years younger than Derek, and slot easily into each other's space. It takes a moment for Derek to recognise the boy. Scott. Melissa's son. And that had to be Allison Argent with him.

"Scott, Allison!" Melissa calls out, turning her gaze away from Derek. "What are you two doing here?"

"Allison wanted to drop by, mom," the man - Scott - says. He sounds relaxed, his words softened and lazy on his tongue. "She wanted to see if you had some herbs left. The inn's been pretty quiet, we were thinking of doing something special." His eyes flicker to Derek. "Oh, sorry. We didn't know we were interrupting."

"It's alright," Derek says. "I was just leaving." He smiles, and picks up the seeds. "Melissa," he says, and departs.

\-----

The next day, when Stiles arrives on his bay, Derek's outside drawing water. Stiles raises an eyebrow. "You're planting?" he asks, his voice light.

"I have to talk to you," Derek says.

"Well, that's one way to respond," Stiles mutters, as he brings his horse to a stop. He hops off his horse, and walks over to the bin to look at the piles of wood and stone. "This load is smaller than your normal," he remarks. "Is the money enough?"

"It is enough," Derek assures him. "Plenty. I'm thinking of getting a barn set up, that's all." Stiles nods absently. "But that's another thing for later. I need to know how much it takes to import ore from where you go."

Stiles eyebrow's rise. "A good lot. Junk ore aside, iron ore starts off at fifty a pound. Why?"

"I need tools. I talked Chris Argent yesterday, and he needs me to supply the ore for him." Derek purses his lips, weighing his choices, then chooses goes ahead. "I heard from him that there are abandoned mines behind the barrier."

Derek knows his words mean something as he watches Stiles. While Stiles does not make a show of being flustered, Derek sees his hands clench, even as he does his magic, making the rock and lumber vanish. "That's not going to be possible," Stiles says.

"I heard that your dad won't permit it," Derek says, "but I really don't have much of a choice --"

Stiles looks at Derek, and with a harshness Derek didn't expect, interrupts. "If you want to stay alive, you won't go in there."

Derek looks at Stiles, shocked. While Stiles' behaviour was distant before, the amount of hostility Stiles is creating is enough to break the air. "Look, Stiles, I really need --"

"I'll negotiate with the dealers down at town," Stiles cuts him off.

"You just said that the basic price is at fifty per pound."

"That's not the point," Stiles says, his temper cracking. "Look, I really want to help you, but going into the barrier is a bad idea. Morrell took a lot of energy to set up that barrier, and there's a reason _why_."

"I'll ask your father for permission then." Derek keeps his voice quiet. It is a conversation killer, Derek knows, to bind his emotions and set them aside, but faced with Stiles' anger and his disapproval, it is the least he must do.

Stiles word hurt than he'd care to admit, but Derek will not bow.

Stiles' face now shutters itself. "I -- never mind. Good day then," Stiles says.

Stiles gets onto his horse and with a gentle kick, takes his leave.

\-----

Later that night, Derek sits in a chair right next to his bed, examining his hoe. Despite how much he wishes he is wrong, even a cursory examination confirms the obvious - his hoe is nearly spent. If it were to hit anything too hard, at the wrong angle, it would snap in half.

Derek looks to his bed, where a parchment, quill, and bottle of ink are set out. It has been about a week or so since he's returned, and about a month since he left Laura's back in Laturna. He should write, should at least message something to Laura, tell her how he is. Yes, they might be separated now, but Laura and he literally built their lives up after the fire together. She deserves to know something.

Derek picks up a quill, and from his trunk takes out a small scribing kit, and then settles down to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took me 1.5 years to come up with an update.
> 
> I must say that I can't promise that I can update regularly. I'm going off to work for a year overseas, so I should conceivably have more time to write, but that honestly depends on the mood I have and whether I have the time/interest to update this project. I have a fairly strong idea of where this story goes, but after a terrible crash on my writer applet last year which ate like 6k of my writing, I haven't quite had the motivation to pick myself up on this project and continue with it up till this point.
> 
> Again apologies, and thank you so much for stopping by.


End file.
